


Sunshine

by vakarian_shepard



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Making Out, Mild Gore, No Shepard without Vakarian, Other, Shepard Survives, also fuck the catalyst looking like that random kid, because fuck killing edi and the geth lmao, sort of???, this isnt technically my canon anymore so uh yeah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10072934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vakarian_shepard/pseuds/vakarian_shepard
Summary: "I'm a stubborn person, and rage is a hell of an anesthetic."Shepard has survived impossible situations before—why should this be any different? Especially now that she's got something to come back to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is no longer canon as I've since brought Shepard's spacer cousin back from Andromeda and she's with Tali and Sun and Kira survive together and yeah.
> 
> [This fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11193513) is now the correct endgame timeline so yeah enjoy

 

> Tell me how it is, being  
>  the sun. You could walk  
>  into a room and they’d  
>  all be watching you.  
>  They’d all get down on  
>  their knees. I ask you  
>  how it is, and you  
>  say, “It hurts. It hurts.”
> 
> —R. Wright;  _Sunlit_  

 

“They will die,” says the Machine, a perfect replica of her father. An insult in the face of certain death. Shepard hates enough to push the pain from her legs, and she moves. “The Crucible is not complete. It cannot target only the Reapers. All synthetic life will be destroyed.”

A sacrifice, for the greater good, her mind says as her mouth asks an empty question. “Is that the only way?”

She’s not looking for another answer, but she receives one anyway. “You may choose to control the Reapers instead. You will give up your corporeal form, and become the new Catalyst,” says her father’s voice. “Everyone will live.”

 _Everyone but me_.

Her mind spins, logic tumbling over itself. EDI and Joker, the Geth—they will live, but Garrus…

 _“Forgive the insubordination, but your bo—your_ **_husband_ ** _has an order for you. Come back alive. It’d be an awfully empty galaxy without you.”_

_“I will. I promise.”_

She promised. She _promised_. “That’s not an option,” she says at length, and blood has begun to pool at her feet. Death is not an option. Not now. Not when they’re so close to making it through this. She deserves a happy ending, dammit. It’s selfish, it’s so selfish, but she has _earned it_. She _has_. She’s…

The Catalyst goes on to say something about a third option, but she’s lost in thought. Why should the Crucible be able to tell the Reapers from the rest of synthetic life with that option? What’s the difference?

Against her chest, she can feel the locket her father had given her, and it comes rushing back. Her father’s voice, tired, but firm, as the Cerberus facility crumbles around them, his forehead to hers as he clasps her hand in both of his— _“Take this, Sunshine. This is the key. The missing piece. You’ll know it when the time comes._ ”

The green beam in the middle of the walkway flashes, and the copy of her father steps in front of her, curious as she rips the chain from her neck. Setting her jaw, she shakes her head and lobs the pendant at the light. The green light flares blue— _Good._

“You are finished,” she tells the Machine, and turns to limp towards the red cylinder, pistol already poised to shoot.

“You will _die_!” her father’s voice argues, but she shakes her head.

This is the only way she can _live_.

The first shot lights the fire, and she barely flinches. This is for her mother. For her father. For everyone she’s lost along the way. The next shot pulls another explosion out of the tank, and she covers her face with her bad arm. Though she knows the risks of using damaged implants, she growls under her breath and her biotics flare around her, the heat of the flame fading.

It’s probably the blood loss, but as she shakily raises the gun again, she feels another hand on hers. Her mother’s voice is in her ear— _“You’ve got this, Sunny. I’m so proud.”_ In her peripheral vision, she can almost make out Thane’s silhouette. Mordin and Legion, too. She is all rage and fire now, the memory of her failures pulsing through her veins like acid, and she remembers back to Mindoir. Shepard remembers the snap, the breaking point, the moment Sunny Shepard stopped existing, and _Shepard_ took her place, carving her right to exist in this world in slaver blood with a halo of dark energy at her fingertips.

There is an echo of her name— _“Siha”_ and _“Shepard”_ and “ _Shepard-Commander_ ” and _“Sunshine_ ”—and Ashley Williams says, “ _We’ve got your back, Commander_ ,” just as Sun pulls the trigger one final time.

The tank explodes, and she thinks she might be yelling as she puts up as strong a barrier as she can muster with a broken body and broken implants. The world around her erupts in flames and red light, but she feels no pain—only the comforting presence of the dead and pulsing heat, before it fades to nothing at all.

 

* * *

 

“Garrus, are you asking me to give you a hickey?”

He stammers, even as she grins at him, because maybe they’ve _spoken_ about ‘blowing off steam’, but they’ve yet to do anything beyond platonic. He’d gotten curious about a bruise on the neck of one of the crewmen, said his ‘research’ had mentioned it, and wondered what it felt like. It’s only logical that she offer to show him, isn’t it? She crosses her heels and swings her legs where she’s sat on his workbench in the battery, fingers tingling with the alcohol she’d shared with Chakwas not long ago. The buzz makes her brave, for once, rather than nervous, and she laughs warmly.

“I—I know we’ve talked about…blowing off steam, but I didn’t mean to—“

“Garrus, believe it or not, I do actually want to kiss you,” she tells him flatly, watching his eyes widen a little in surprise. Tilting her head, she asks, “Can you guys even bruise, though? Because that’s what a hickey is. A bruise.”

“Of course we bruise,” he says distractedly, eyes on her mouth. Tentatively, he takes a step towards her. “Is—does it hurt? Do you just _bite_ or—?”

She reaches forward, then, gently grasping at his shirt (he’s forgone the armor again, and she’s really quite thrilled about it) and pulls him closer. “Gare, if you don’t like it, you can tell me to stop, okay?” And, because he still looks vaguely worried, she reaches for his hands and squeezes. “It’s just me, Garrus. I’ve got you.”

Heat curls low in her abdomen at the way he visibly relaxes, but then she’s leaning in and pressing her lips softly against his good cheek.

She won’t kiss him on the mouth, she’s already decided. It’d just weird him out, probably, and the last thing she wants is to make him uncomfortable. Trying to acclimatize him a bit, she trails kisses along his jaw, slow and soft, hands still holding his. She lets her lips drag against his mandible, lets her breath wash over his skin, and she grins into his neck when he shudders, just a little. Beneath her lips, she can feel his heartbeat racing, as she presses a kiss to the leathery skin just beneath his jaw, guiding his hands to her thighs as she does.

Garrus sighs under her touch—a good sign, she thinks—as she kisses him a little harder, a little deeper. Her hands come up to lightly play with the fabric on his waist, and she grins again when his breath hitches in his throat, his pulse leaping as his hands tighten a little on her legs.

_Good._

She has to pull his collar away from his throat to kiss him again, and she thinks it’s a good thing, at least, that turian clothing tends to cover the neck as much as possible, because she plans to leave him with a good one if he’ll let her. She notices he’s tilting his head a little, baring his throat to her, and a part of her thinks this _must_ be a bigger deal for turians than humans. Humans are soft, and their teeth can tear if they want (this she knows for certain), but they have to try much harder to tear someone’s throat out than she imagines a turian might. Echoes of old war stories flash through her mind—tales told in warning during her training, of gouging claw marks and turians with human blood splattered across their faces.

She comes back to the moment as his hands slide towards her hips, and his breath is coming a little faster as she finds where his pulse beats strongest and kisses there. His subvocals begin to hum in something like a contented purr as she sets up a rhythm, lingering wet kisses against his hide.

His head is tilted almost completely aside now and, feeling a bit wicked, Sun decides he’s comfortable enough for her to turn it up a notch. He takes a breath like he’s going to say something, but before he can, she bites gently at one of the cords in his neck, digging her fingers of the hand not holding his turtle neck out of the way into his waist. A sound rips out of his chest—something caught between a purr and a growl, inhuman in the best possible way—and heat curls low in her stomach, heart pounding as she can hear some sort of desperation pitch his subvocals up a note or two as she twists her tongue into the spot she’d nipped.

Garrus is pressing closer, then, stepping even closer so that his boney hips are pressing sharply into her inner thighs, hands tight at her waist now. He turns his head into _her_ neck then, nudging his mouth against her skin like he’s trying to mimic her actions. Shepard giggles softly, because his breath tickles, though that fades away into a quiet whimper when he flicks his tongue out to curl around the shell of her ear.

“Garrus?” she breathes, delighting in the way he sighed at the sound of his name. “Are we, ah, still waiting until the last minute to… _blow off steam_?”

He pauses, taking in the way she’s wrapped around him, and—

 

* * *

 

_Pain._

Shepard wakes with a gasp, and the world around her is black. Missing. She thinks maybe she’s gone blind, but then she catches a glimpse of blue and realizes what she’s looking at—the Void. Somewhere above her, or below her maybe, is a blue world. It reminds her of Earth, she thinks distractedly, unable to focus on much besides the throbbing pain radiating across her body. How did she get here? There was—she was on the Normandy. There was a ship and—and Kaidan and Joker?

No. No, that’s not right.

Movement somewhere in the edges of her vision catches her attention, and after a little straining ( _painpainpain)_ she finds some sort of… _bug_ staring back at her. What is— _A keeper!_ That’s a keeper, so that means…

 _The Citadel. She and Anderson are the only ones to make it aboard and—and “Best seats in the house,” she jokes, but it’s not enough. Hackett’s voice—“Shepard. Commander!”—“What do you need me to do? I don’t—I don’t know—.” Her father’s voice and an explosion and_ I will live _._

Sun tries to breathe in, slow and shaky, only to find her chest rattles with fluid at the movement. Something heavy is pinning her down against a pile of rubble by her sternum. Her armor is shattered, barely clinging to her torso, and what parts of her body she can feel through the strange combination of numbness and pain are sticky and cold. A tear slips down into her hair line, warm against the dried blood she can feel tugging at her skin with every move she makes. A shuddering gasp claws its way out of her throat when the keeper moves the large piece of debris on her chest away, and it hurts—god, it hurts—but she can breathe a little deeper, and that must be a good thing, right?

The keeper makes some kind of noise at her, or so she thinks, beady, emotionless black eyes staring straight into her soul as she tries to move. The pain flares, but she needs to _move_. She has to get help. She has to go home. She has to…

Her leg is gone.

 _Oh god,_ she thinks, forcing herself not to look down. _Oh god, oh god, oh god._ She doesn’t need that image branded into her brain. _Don’t look_ , _don’t look, don’t look._

“H…hhh… _help_ ,” she rasps at the keeper then, hoping beyond hope that it can understand her. “N…nnh…need help.”

Her voice is barely more than a whisper, just an exhale resembling speech, but the keeper clicks its feelers at her and scurries away. Trying to turn her head to watch proves more painful than she can handle, stars bursting across her vision.

She’s not sure how much time has passed when the world—and the great expanse of space above—swims back into view. The edges of her vision still pulse with black, threatening to suck her back into unconsciousness, but _something_ must have woken her up. She squints up into the black nothingness in concentration, trying to piece together something coherent, when she hears it.

Voices.

"...telling you, there's no way she could have survived that. I'm sorry, mate, but this is—“

Familiar. Rough, like gravel on a country road. _"I always thought you were beautiful. Just thought I'd say."_

“Shut up. You don’t know her like I do. She—She made a promise.”

“So what?”

“So _Shepard—keeps—her promises_. Keep looking.”

Shepard gasps audibly at the familiar, two-toned rasp, but they don’t seem to hear her, too busy talking. “Garrus!” she tries, but even as her mouth forms the word, no sound follows.

They’re somewhere behind her, down the hallway. She can still hear them talking, though the sound of her own panicked breathing garbles the words—or maybe her translator is damaged, she doesn’t know. Moving is torture, but Garrus— _Garrus_. Garrus is here, just over there, and home is so close she can almost taste it, and Shepard so _desperately_ just wants to go home.

She can hear footsteps now, and she wants to go to them. Her friends are so close and alive and—and _alive_ and she’s alive right here. _Here, here, over here, I’m here. Don’t go, Gare, I’m here, I’m here!_

“H…here!” she tries, again, but the sound falls flat. No. No, no, no. She needs them to come _here_.

Grinding her teeth so hard her jaw clicks, Sun braces herself mentally and, letting out as loud of a cry as she can (nothing more than a pained yelp, in truth), she pitches forward off of her pile of rubble, landing hard on her already broken arm with a heavy thump. All sound is muffled, fading away to the ringing in her ears as the world spins and she feels like her body is about to implode when she registers her name being called.

“ _Shepard_!” It’s a gasp, a shout, almost a laugh, thick and relieved, and she doesn’t have time to wonder how he recognizes her before there are strong, gentle hands on her shoulders. “Shepard.”

She hears Zaeed echo, “Commander!” from somewhere behind them, but she can’t really concentrate on much else once Garrus finally manages to turn her on her back.

Garrus laughs, breathless, when her eyes meet his. Sun does her best to smile through the pain, and just barely manages a soft, “Hey.”

His mandibles flare wide at that as he gives another half-hysterical laugh, and he touches her cheek with a gentle, three-fingered hand. “Hey, Sunshine,” he greets, catching the tear that slips from the corner of her eye as she coughs out a laugh at the endearment. She leans into his touch, suddenly noticing just how cold she is when she feels the faint warmth radiating from his palm.

“Garrus, I—it _hurts_.”

“I know,” he replies quietly. “I know, but I’m here now, Shepard. I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.”

 _I know_ , she thinks, even as his voice wavers. He may not be sure, but she is. Garrus will keep her safe. Garrus will get her to the doctors, and they will put her right again, whatever it takes. She’ll be fine.

Shepard is out cold again before he can scoop her up properly, confident that when she wakes again, she’ll be somewhere safe and warm and hopefully with enough narcotics in her system to not notice all the injuries.

 

* * *

 

“She’ll sell for a pretty penny,” one double voice jokes, and he’s crowding into her space, dark eyes pulling hers away from her mother. She doesn’t know where her father is, or Mara, or anyone else. He grins, oily, and grasps her chin roughly, watching the glare set into her features. “Could probably sell her off for sex. What do you think?”

“I dunno,” says another, but Sun’s vision is starting to go red around the edges. “All these humans look pretty ugly to me.”

There is no one left to help her. Blood has pooled around her mother’s head, and distantly she can hear the screaming from other colonists getting abducted, but…

But there are only four of them here. Her father’s lab was well away from the heart of the colony, and that’s where she and her mother were when the raid began. That is where she is now.

 _Fight, or die trying_ , her mother’s voice echoes, and something inside her snaps, like a rubber band pulled too tight. The slaver’s hand is on her hip, cruel laughter ringing in her ears, and then her teeth are in his jugular.

His blood doesn’t taste like much of anything, really, lacking the same distinct level of saltiness of human blood—but it is thick and hot, covering her face when he jerks away with a gurgling gasp, covering the new hole in his throat as she stumbles back. He collapses, red, red blood soaking his shirt, and the other three men in the room watch in abject horror, each turning to her with slack jaws. She doesn’t move to wipe her face, fixing her eyes on the next closest batarian and letting her biotics flare up around her.

Her hand comes out of his back with a sickening crunch, and something primal in her takes sick pleasure in watching the light leave his eyes. The other two move to run, but with her other hand she reaches out and, with the flick of her wrist, snuffs them out as well.

When the Alliance finds her—when Anderson finds her—she’s curled into a ball on the floor, blue hair matted with blood and who knows what else. The batarians lay dead in the corner, and her barrier flickers when she looks up at him, eyes red ringed and puffy.

“Good god,” he says, lowering his gun. “You’re Hana’s daughter.”

She spends three days in a holding cell on an Alliance vessel. They don’t seem to know what to do with her, and though Anderson tries to talk with her, she just fixes her gaze on a spot on the wall until he leaves. She doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want to think, because if she does then that makes all of this real. She’s waiting to wake up—ready for the nightmare to end. The metal walls of the room they assigned her make her feel like she’s being crushed, and she closes her eyes to count to one hundred. Again.

“I hope you brought something more edible,” she starts when she hears the door open at dinner on the third night, rising from the bed where she’d been sitting. She doesn’t continue, though, when she takes in the familiar silhouette in the doorway.

Max flicks her mandibles at her uncomfortably, fidgeting, and Sun remembers that she hasn’t been a mother in a long time. “Hi, sweetheart,” she says in her familiar, two-tone voice.

Sun Shepard’s careful composure shatters.

Choking on a sob, she desperately covers her face, curling into herself. Before she can collapse, the turian’s arms are around her, holding her close, and for the first time since the attack, Sun actually feels safe. It’s not her mother, and she doesn’t know where her father is, but Max is the closest thing she has left to family. They sway on the spot for a few minutes as Sun tries to remember how to breathe.

When her sobs slow and soften into hiccups, Max’s soothing purr is interrupted as she breathes, “Do you want to come home with me?”

“ _Please_.”

 

* * *

 

When Sun wakes next, it’s to a familiar, steady beeping noise. The steady rhythm begins to sound a little faster, as Shepard takes one breath in, and then another, deeper, wincing at the pain that sparks in her ribs at the movement. A hand covers her left, and she tries to open her eyes and look at her visitor, only to find that her head feels like it’s made of lead and her eyes refuse to work.

“Easy,” comes a warm, soft voice—low and comforting. She can’t remember who the voice belongs to. “You’re still healing.”

Shepard tries opening her eyes again, with marginally more success. She blinks a few times, squeezing them tight to try and wet them again. The world is still a little blurry, but she manages to catch sight of the person sitting at her bedside. An asari, smiling quietly— _Liara_. “Do you remember your name?”

“ _Y—Yes_ ,” she rasps, prying her dry lips apart with a grimace. “Shepard.”

Liara shakes her head, a strange look on her face. “You know, you really shouldn’t be awake yet. They—it’s—you’re still…” she trails off, looking away. “Garrus will be upset he missed you.”

“ _Garrus_ ,” Sun gasps. Another familiar name. _Come back alive._ She wants to move, but everything hurts far too much. The beeping of her heart rate monitor starts to climb, and Liara squeezes her hand, just as several other people—more asari—walk into the room.

“We’re going to have to put you back under, Commander. You’re not healed enough to be awake yet.”

Before she can even think to argue, the world fades away again.

 

* * *

 

The Cerberus headquarters are collapsing around them, but Shepard barely notices that through the sudden ringing in her ears. Her father is on the terminal screen, alive and well, _years_ after Mindoir. He’s—part of Project Lazarus. He’s…

“Hello, Sunshine.”

Shepard whips around on the spot, as do Garrus and EDI, three guns leveled at the intruder’s chest. Her father—her _father_ —stands with his hands raised in surrender, smiling his crooked smile. He’s older than she remembers, hair greying with wrinkles around his mouth. His lab coat is soaked in red.

Her gun shakes and her cheeks are hot as her eyes begin to burn. “… _Dad_?” He doesn’t move but to nod slightly. “What—What— _Cerberus, Dad?_ ”

“Against my will,” he responds. He looks tired. “If you will lower your gun, I will try to explain as quickly as I can.”

Sun drops her arm to her side heavily, shaking her head. Garrus and EDI cautiously follow suit. “I don’t understand.”

Her father nods again and lowers his hands. Taking a deep breath, he says, “I suppose I’ll start at the beginning. When I was working on the Mars Archives, I came into contact with the man who would become The Illusive Man. He didn’t give me a name, even then, but he was very interested my research. Said it would propel humanity to greatness or something. Secure human dominance in the galaxy—that confused me at the time, because this was before we had our run in with the turians. He might have known something I didn’t, looking back on it.

"Anyway, he tried to get me to join his organization, to pass him classified information so that he could start developing weapons and ‘preparing’,” her father raises his hands to make air quotes. “When I refused, he left me alone for a while, promising to be back someday. I didn’t think much of it for years afterwards—not until the attack on Mindoir.”

Sun blinks, realization slowly washing over her. “ _Cerberus_ was behind that, too?”

Her father nods. “He paid the slavers and gave me an ultimatum. Join him, or watch my wife and daughter sold into slavery. I almost agreed, but the batarians betrayed him, went ahead with the attack before he gave them the clear. I am not a fighter, my dear. I couldn’t get away, so I let them take me. When I refused to work for them, however, they decided to “test out” their new cryo technology on me. They kept me on ice until they needed to bring you back to life, and with that I was only too eager to succeed.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that, but Admiral Hackett’s voice on her comm saves her from that. The base is going down, and they still need to get the data on The Catalyst.

The rest of the way through the base is a blur, as Shepard is still reeling from finding her father again. Of all the things she expected to run into in the Cerberus headquarters, this definitely wasn’t it. At first, everything is fine, even arguing with The Illusive Man—especially the part where her father stares him dead in the eye and tells him to, “Go to hell, you selfish, xenophobic, indoctrinated husk.”

And then Kai Leng shows up again.

She’s ready to dodge when he lunges, be he doesn’t aim for her, instead veering right and— _oh no_.

It’s like watching Thane’s stabbing all over again, only everything seems to be moving even slower. When Kai Leng removes the blade, her father stumbles back into the chair in front of the console, sliding to the floor and holding a hand over the wound.

Everything in the room is red and, with a roar, Shepard lunges for the assassin, biotics flaring around her.

The fight is short, and Sun won’t remember much of it in the years to follow, but when she turns back towards the console, her father is tapping away at the keyboard. He’s far too pale when she returns to his side, and he shoots her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’ve sent the data to the Alliance,” he tells her quietly. “And there is something I need to give you before I go.”

“Before you—no, we’ll get you help, it’s—“

He shakes his head, reaching out and pressing something smooth, flat, and rectangular into her palm. Using his free hand, he pulls her forward and presses his forehead to hers. “Take this, Sunshine. This is the key. The missing piece. You’ll know it when the time comes.”

“What—What does that—?”

“Mr. Vakarian,” her father says, pulling away to look up at Garrus. “Keep her safe.”

Sun doesn’t see Garrus’s reaction, clutching at her father’s lab coat desperately. “Dad—“

“This place is about to go up in flames, Sunshine. You must go.”

“ _No_ , Dad, you can—“

“ _Now_ , Sun,” he growls, prying her fingers off of his coat and looking up at Garrus again. “Get her out of here.”

She hears Garrus say, “Yes, sir,” a moment before she’s being tossed over her boyfriend’s shoulder.

She’s too stunned to struggle for a long moment, and by the time she thinks to push him away, the door has already closed behind them. “Garrus, no, put me _down_. _Dad!_ ”

She thinks Garrus says, “I’m sorry,” but then her ears are popping and she’s biting back sobs as they sprint for the Normandy.

Garrus sits on the floor and holds her while she cries for a solid half hour once they’re safe again.

 

* * *

 

It takes weeks for Shepard to regain consciousness fully. She wakes here and there, briefly, but never long enough to speak to anyone—other than the time she woke and immediately began babbling about EDI and the geth, sobbing and begging forgiveness until the nurses were ready to sedate her. She fought them off when they tried at first, hysterical, only to freeze when EDI interrupted her.

_“I am here, Commander.”_

And that was all it had taken. She’d relaxed back into the pillows, stunned, as her mind reminded her of ‘the key’ her father had given her. It had worked.

When Shepard wakes now, there is a doctor hovering by her bedside with a clipboard and glasses. The asari begins to list her injuries. “Your left leg was removed from the knee down. That was missing when your crewmates found you. You’ll have scarring on the left side of your body as well—mostly burns—but for the damage report we received about the room you were found in, it seems you must have been the subject of a miracle.”

“I’m a biotic,” Shepard rasps, voice rough from disuse. How long has it been since the last time she woke? “I put up a barrier.”

The doctor looks up at her over the top of her glasses. “You managed to put up a barrier _after_ getting hit by that Reaper’s gun?”

Shepard laughs dryly. “I’m a stubborn person, and rage is a hell of an anesthetic .”

The doctor’s lips twitch. “So it would seem. That does lead me to the next injury—your biotic implants are damaged beyond repair. If you plan to return to active duty—which, I doubt you do, all things considered—you won’t be able to use your biotics anymore.”

“Ever?”

“Most likely.”

Huh. Sun feels like maybe that should make her feel worse than it does, but she doesn’t really mind that. Garrus _had_ promised they’d retire somewhere warm and tropical, after all—what would she need biotics for? “That’s fine.”

The doctor goes on, listing injury after injury, time after time Shepard was an inch or a millimeter from death. It makes her head spin a little, and she stops listening until the doctor pulls her glasses off and sighs, lowering the clipboard. “You are very lucky, Commander, and it is an honor to be treating you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve an entire ward of critically injured soldiers to check on. Should you require any assistance, do not hesitate to hit this button here,” she said, tapping a little blue square on the remote attached to her bed. “A nurse will be by in about an hour to change your bandages and give you your medicine. Have a pleasant evening.”

“Thank you,” is all Shepard can think to say as the doctor turned to leave, and then Garrus is moving back into the seat by the bed, scooping her hand up and raising it to his mouth, exhaling against her skin. It’s different, and intimate—they haven’t actually been alone since what happened (or at least, not while she was awake).

“ _Shepard_ ,” he sighs, eyes shut as he bends his head further, almost as though in prayer, pressing his forehead to the back of her hand. “Shepard, I was so—I thought—I _thought_ —,” he rasps, voice cracking in a way she’s never really heard before as his hands tighten around hers.

“ _Hey_ ,” Sun breathes, heart breaking just looking at him, tugging on his hands. “Hey, come here.”

He comes to her willingly, letting go of her hand in favor of (gently) cradling her face between his palms, careful about his talons since he’d taken his gloves off earlier. Garrus presses his forehead to hers, subvocals rumbling softly, brow plates drawn low as his eyes slip shut again. Her left hand is pretty tied up with IVs, but she brings her right hand to his mandible, rubbing her thumb across his cheekbone softly as she smiles and brushes her nose against his.

After a moment of this stillness, the intimacy of his breath washing over her lips raising goosebumps on her skin, she tilts her chin to press a kiss to his mouth, lingering, letting herself revel in the warmth that pulses through her veins at being so close to him. When she moves to pull away again, he makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat, tilting his head and nuzzling his mouth against hers, trying to get her to kiss him again.

She laughs, delighted, heart lighter than it has been in ages. “ _Garrus_.”

“I love you,” he says in response, making her heart flutter. “Kiss me.”

Well, who is she to argue with that request?

Shepard can’t _quite_ keep the grin off her lips as she kisses him again, firmly now, sliding her fingers gently just under the edge of his mandible as he deepens the kiss. She still isn’t sure how long she’s been asleep, but somehow she’d managed to miss him, and the feeling of Garrus hovering close with his mouth on hers feels like coming home.

“I love you,” he gasps into her mouth, just before pulling away to pepper stiff almost-kisses to other parts of her face. His mandible flares in a grin under her hand when she giggles, elated at his touch.

“I love you, too, Garrus,” she murmurs as he finally sighs and buries his face in the crook of her neck (careful not to disturb any of the bandaging there). She runs her fingers up the side of his neck to rub under his fringe, and his subvocals begin to rumble contentedly again. After a few minutes of companionable silence, she asks, “What have I missed?”

Pulling away, he gives a light shrug. “Oh, you know—just the Reapers exploding all over the galaxy as you basically saved the universe. Nothing important. Oh, and I’m pretty sure the Alliance has promoted you to Admiral.”

“ _Admiral_ Shepard, huh?” she muses, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “That just _feels_ wrong. Though…Admiral _Vakarian-Shepard_ doesn’t sound so bad.”

Garrus’s eyes soften, and he strokes at her unburnt cheek gently. “Vakarian-Shepard?” he echoes.

“Well, we _are_ married,” she replies with a tiny shrug, remembering the night before Earth, saying her vows in her cabin in pajamas, with no one but EDI and her pets as their witnesses. She’s very glad that _that_ particular seafaring tradition still stands, even in space. Having something to come back to made surviving just that much easier. “And Shepard-Vakarian doesn’t sound as good, I don’t think. Is hyphenating—is that something turians do?”

“Not generally, but marrying humans is also something turians don’t really do, _so_ I’d say it’s whatever you want, Sunshine.”

She blushes at the endearment, smiling wider even though it hurts her face to do so. Speaking of… “Nobody’s let me look in a mirror yet. How bad do I look?” she asks, gesturing vaguely to the left side of her face.

He laughs lightly. “You’re beautiful,” Garrus answers, refusing to rise to the bait, and if he were anyone else, she’d think he was being sarcastic—but the way he’s looking at her says it all. He really does still think she's beautiful.

“If you say so,” she mumbles. “We match, now, at least.”

He snorts and shakes his head, before sighing heavily. “This doesn’t feel _real_ , but it’s finally over. All of it.”

“All that’s left now is the cleanup,” she hums in agreement.

“That,” his eyes are warm, and full of mischief, “ _and_ that vacation you promised me. We’ve still got to go on our honeymoon.”

It hurts to laugh, but Sun can feel the ache of war easing away, the vice-like grip fear had around her heart melting as Garrus leans back in to rest his forehead against hers again.

They’re finally free, and the future has never looked brighter.

**Author's Note:**

> i wasn't actually going to finish this but people were so nice on tumblr that i decided to try anyway
> 
> im not sure how happy i am with this because i hate present tense but everyone has to practice some time right 
> 
> here you go
> 
> also: no one asked but garrus is a chicken and chickened out in that second part so their first time was still the right before the Omega 4 Relay
> 
> see more of Sun Shepard on my [tumblr](http://galpalaven.tumblr.com/tagged/sun-shepard) and check out my [Mass Effect blog](http://vakarian-shepard.tumblr.com) while you're at it maybe?


End file.
